


Home Safe

by Ael_tRlailiiu



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Unsafe Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ael_tRlailiiu/pseuds/Ael_tRlailiiu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bit 'o post-5b smut to help get us through the winter hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Safe

One trip to hell and all of the usual welcome-back festivities -- done. The front door closed and left the house quiet. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows. Emma had opened a few of them to chase out the stale air. Killian poked around aimlessly, looked at books and the few other items Emma had accumulated in the too-long week she had lived there alone. 

She watched him from the passage to the kitchen, hands in her back pockets as she looked for something to say. They needed to say things--a lot of them, probably. The weight of Camelot and all that came afterward could not be allowed to stay. Emma wasn’t ready for that talk, but she did not want this fragile, wary silence. 

Emma took two steps forward, inserted herself into his restless orbit, grabbed his shirt collar and hauled the two of them together. The breath jolted out of him when their lips met. She didn’t hold back; after a startled instant neither did he. That immediate, all-consuming response to her touch had never changed, no matter what else did. 

Later they could be gentle with each other; later they could be careful; later they could say all of the things they needed to.  _ Later _ was a promise she could make again. They were home. They were alive. She kissed him until hunger burned away the shadows, drew her fingers through his hair to drive out the memory of his cold hand in hers, until the tension broke and they both had to breathe.

“There’s just me and you here,” Emma whispered. “And I know things are weird, and maybe they always will be, but we’re going to be okay.”

“That so.” He sounded unsteady, but his thumb ran along the line of her chin like always. 

“Leap of faith, right?”

“Could become a habit, love.” He kissed her not like it might be the last time -- she knew that kiss -- but like the first time, when there had been nothing but that blaze of desire between them, a promise that had no shape yet. 

Emma could take that promise now and give one of her own back. She left one hand cupping the back of his neck, slid the other down his chest to undo the buttons on his vest and shirt. He drew one quick, sharp breath. Emma took another step and turned, put her back against the wall. 

“Emma….”

She pulled him to her and kept working her way down his buttons instead of replying. He kissed her again, his hand cradling her head, the flicker of his tongue against hers a question. She answered in the same language, demand and surrender twined into a single thread. There would be no letting go for either of them, not ever again. She slipped the last button free. Her hands roved across his stomach, hungry for his skin, for the thick dark hair that had captured her imagination night after night. She broke off their kiss to move her mouth down his throat, tasted him there, sucked a little mark under his collarbone. Questions that had vexed her for months fell away -- yes, he had more than the one tattoo; yes, he wanted her. 

“Fond of this shirt, are you?” he asked. 

“Couldn’t care less.” She tried a bite and moved her hand lower. His hook scraped against the wall behind her, the rounded side cool against her skin. Fabric gave way. His mouth returned to hers, fierce with need. His hand found her breast, rolled and tweaked her nipple, just on the edge of too rough. Emma muttered a curse against his lips and gave up any thought of changing venue. She fumbled with his belt buckle, then his briefs. No more waiting. He felt good in her hand, thick and heavy. She wanted to touch him, taste him, watch him, but she  _ needed _ him inside her. She slid her hands around to the small of his back and down to pull him against her in a slow grind.

“Here?” His voice dropped to a near-growl. 

The sound went straight to the base of Emma’s spine. “Now.” She thanked God that she was wearing ankle boots, which were relatively easy to take off, and shimmied out of her pants with near-magical speed. Killian cupped her ass for a moment, then shifted his hand around to slide his fingers deep inside her. Emma stifled a whimper of longing, then remembered that she didn’t need to be quiet and moaned. She stroked him while she wrapped her other arm around his neck, waited until he had braced himself for her weight, then pulled herself up. 

“Gods, Emma.” He locked his eyes onto hers and shifted her just a bit, over and down and….

“Oh.” She could drown like this if she kept looking at him. She leaned her head back against the wall, panting. “Oh, god.” That first slow push felt like forever, and she arched into its completion, his hard length filling her to perfection. She locked her legs around his hips and pulled. She thought he might tease; he didn’t, but set a fast, steady pace. She needed this, needed him fever-hot under her touch, her free hand roaming greedily across his back, his hand in her hair and his mouth on hers like she was all the air he would ever want, fucking her hard against the wall so Emma needed both hands to hold on, to move with him, to follow the spiral of pleasure until it shattered. She groaned and leaned back as the first crest of her orgasm faded, her hips still chasing his. She wanted more. He sped up the pace. She tightened around him, relaxed again, fell out of rhythm and caught it again until his breathing went ragged. Her softer cry echoed his. 

Emma stroked the back of his neck and felt him shudder, moving inside her more gently now, though with the occasional stronger thrust that made her breath catch. If that was an aftershock, she figured it was a good one, so she kept up her touch until he went still and breathed a long sigh against her neck. She thought he might be smiling; if she moved to find out, someone was going to lose their balance. She had to shift her leg, anyway, before it could cramp. Killian picked up the hint from her movement. They ended up in a panting heap on the floor, still locked together, leaning into one another. 

After a moment Emma giggled. She tried not to, but the thought would not go away once she’d had it. 

“Dare I inquire as to what’s funny right now?”

“I just remembered that we don’t have a bed.” She hadn’t needed to sleep last time she spent a night here, after all, had looked forward with hope to furnishing the house together. For a moment Emma worried that she shouldn’t have mentioned that, but then she felt Killian’s shoulders move. His chuckle made her shiver.

“We’ve a few hours, surely, before the stores shutter for the night. And we do have a couch.” 


End file.
